Teresa is a name that belongs to an icon of Kolkota. Mother Teresa will be canonised on 4th September 2016. Her maiden name was Anjeze Gonxhe Bojaxhia, so complicated to pronounce, and so she chose a path of service to the poorest of the poor, a path that is complicated and gruelling.
A few years ago, I saw a man on the Kemps corner slope, lying on one side of the road, in the hot afternoon sunlight, and a rat was nibbling his toes. It is a very busy road, and thousands of vehicles were driving past. I assumed that he was dead, until he flickered his eyes. What could I do? I could not touch him or even talk to him, because I was so rattled at his state. I returned home and phoned the BMC, assuming that the municipal authorities would have some sort of rescue tactics in place. But they replied that, 'we do not pick up sick persons from the road, we have no provision for such acts. Please phone "the sisters' of mercy".
And I phoned them and within an hour, their van came to the site and carried the sick man away. In that moment, my respect for the Christians increased.
Since then, there have been many occasions, when I have wished that I could have had the compassion and the guts to do what Mother Teresa did, to physically and emotionally, help the poorest of the poor. But I have befriended another Teresa, who herself is the poorest of the poor.
In reality, this Teresa has befriended me. She lives on the footpath and ekes out a living by collecting, segregating and selling 'radd-deeh'. All the shops along both sides of the street are her means of procuring cardboard boxes, plastic bottles, used bubble wrap, wooden supports etc.
She sweeps a few upper floor homes, in return for leftover food and old clothes. She washes their toilets and bathrooms, in return for permission to use them when she has to. But the most laudable thing about this Teresa is that she helps herself and she is always smiling for me. I am just a woman she meets at the bus stop, until my bus arrives. She approaches me whenever she is nearby and strikes up a conversation in perfect English. Her saree is a faded, sometimes tattered, hand-me-down, but she sports nail paint and bangles and a mobile. The nailpaint is courtesy the nick-nack selling shop that she swabs, and whose garbage bins she clears. The mobile is an old model that the owner wanted to replace, from one of the homes she sweeps.
She has no home, and takes shelter on the shop steps, after they are shut. She has a twenty year old son, who helps her. But it is sad that he has no education and no support to learn and earn a respectable livlihood. He is doing drugs with some other bad elements off the streets.
Teresa asked me for a favour once, and I made an effort, to fulfill it, but in vain. She requested me to help her open a bank account, so that she could save her hard earned money. But a bank needs an Aadhar card, and an Aadhar card needs an address, and an address needs a house, which Teresa does not own. And so I could not help her to get a bank account. And the situation has not improved for the poorest of the poor, no matter what promises our Prime minister Mr.Modi boasts about. And aslo petty politicians, who being in the vicinity, do nothing to improve the lot of humans around them,,,,, Mr. Owaisi for example. But then he may wish to only help his own community, I presume.
But this has not caused any rift in her friendship towards me. She continues to smile and chitchat with me, as long as I wait for my bus, at this bus stop.
A few years ago, I saw a man on the Kemps corner slope, lying on one side of the road, in the hot afternoon sunlight, and a rat was nibbling his toes. It is a very busy road, and thousands of vehicles were driving past. I assumed that he was dead, until he flickered his eyes. What could I do? I could not touch him or even talk to him, because I was so rattled at his state. I returned home and phoned the BMC, assuming that the municipal authorities would have some sort of rescue tactics in place. But they replied that, 'we do not pick up sick persons from the road, we have no provision for such acts. Please phone "the sisters' of mercy".
And I phoned them and within an hour, their van came to the site and carried the sick man away. In that moment, my respect for the Christians increased.
Since then, there have been many occasions, when I have wished that I could have had the compassion and the guts to do what Mother Teresa did, to physically and emotionally, help the poorest of the poor. But I have befriended another Teresa, who herself is the poorest of the poor.
In reality, this Teresa has befriended me. She lives on the footpath and ekes out a living by collecting, segregating and selling 'radd-deeh'. All the shops along both sides of the street are her means of procuring cardboard boxes, plastic bottles, used bubble wrap, wooden supports etc.
She sweeps a few upper floor homes, in return for leftover food and old clothes. She washes their toilets and bathrooms, in return for permission to use them when she has to. But the most laudable thing about this Teresa is that she helps herself and she is always smiling for me. I am just a woman she meets at the bus stop, until my bus arrives. She approaches me whenever she is nearby and strikes up a conversation in perfect English. Her saree is a faded, sometimes tattered, hand-me-down, but she sports nail paint and bangles and a mobile. The nailpaint is courtesy the nick-nack selling shop that she swabs, and whose garbage bins she clears. The mobile is an old model that the owner wanted to replace, from one of the homes she sweeps.
She has no home, and takes shelter on the shop steps, after they are shut. She has a twenty year old son, who helps her. But it is sad that he has no education and no support to learn and earn a respectable livlihood. He is doing drugs with some other bad elements off the streets.
Teresa asked me for a favour once, and I made an effort, to fulfill it, but in vain. She requested me to help her open a bank account, so that she could save her hard earned money. But a bank needs an Aadhar card, and an Aadhar card needs an address, and an address needs a house, which Teresa does not own. And so I could not help her to get a bank account. And the situation has not improved for the poorest of the poor, no matter what promises our Prime minister Mr.Modi boasts about. And aslo petty politicians, who being in the vicinity, do nothing to improve the lot of humans around them,,,,, Mr. Owaisi for example. But then he may wish to only help his own community, I presume.
But this has not caused any rift in her friendship towards me. She continues to smile and chitchat with me, as long as I wait for my bus, at this bus stop.
